Thursday again. 17 weeks today.
My life is now split into two distinct parts – before Day 0 and after. There is a deep gorge between the two into which part of my life, my dreams, my hopes and me have disappeared irretrievably. Everything is now incomplete.
My mind goes back and forth trying to figure out what it must have been like for him to suffer silently for so long. It tries to make me feel bad about myself, an old habit that I am wise to by now and not easily caught by. So typical of him to keep his problems to himself and not bother anyone!
My body goes up and down the stairs to his room, washing his clothes, putting them away unsure of what to do with them. I go to the bank to close his account and they tell me no more bank statements will arrive for him by post. Wow! It hits me all over again. This is it!
‘I don’t know why.
I’ll never know why.
I don’t have to know why.
I don’t like it.
What I have to do is make a choice
About my living.’
These are the lines by another parent who has lost their child to suicide. I have to make choices about my living too, every moment of every day.
Don’t we all, in one way or another?
The big choices are easy, I will survive. The small ones are not.